<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Only Acting by MoonySmith</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25908139">Only Acting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySmith/pseuds/MoonySmith'>MoonySmith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beginnings, Confusion, M/M, Misunderstandings, but give it a try, idk how to tag this one, or sort of??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:09:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25908139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySmith/pseuds/MoonySmith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to a text a misunderstanding had created between them and some ghosts from the past threated to come back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Only Acting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://king.tumblr.com/post/621398538028466176">this post</a><br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was surprisingly eating at the kitchen table after Mrs Hudson insisted on bringing him food. He didn’t refuse as much as he was used to with the old lady this time because, although he tried not to even show her, he was in a rare good mood. Even though the flat was all silent, he felt like humming a piece he had composed some weeks ago that now was ringing inside his head while he ate. It was strange, yes, but he was enjoying the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly his phone rang from a text message and Sherlock got a bit excited when he put the fork down as he took the phone and saw that it was from Lestrade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadly, all that excitement just vanished when he read his words:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey… did you poison me yesterday? Be honest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the phone more than it was necessary, not conscious of how long it took him, reading over again those words the other man had sent. Suddenly a familiar feeling that he thought was forgotten hit his chest. Some flashes of old memories weaving in front of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud klaxon that rang outside in the streets took him away from his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. This harsh reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and typed a short, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ as an answer, and in a quick movement he left the phone aside then he abruptly stood up, forgetting about the meal for now because he was feeling the urge to distract himself from what had just happened, deciding that the best thing for him was to start working on an old experiment instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was well aware of how stupid it was to work on this specific analysis since he already had the answers, but he also knew very well the need of something to drag him out of his head he was currently feeling, of what was actually happening right there and he was refusing to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw from the corner of his eyes over and over again how the screen of his phone lit up constantly as the caller ID showed Lestrade’s name on it. He grumbled as he took the phone and turned it face down so he couldn’t see the annoying screen anymore, after being left in silence mode anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock didn’t feel like answering any of those calls. They well could end what was happening between them as quickly as it started but he didn’t need to do the whole thing right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the calls stopped, Sherlock found himself able to concentrate on his work, or at least enough to forget completely about what was going on outside that kitchen walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t until it was late and dark that he needed to turn the light on. He stopped for a while when he saw John entering the room. He had forgotten that John might have come that day to do his quick checks on him—probably just making sure that Sherlock wasn’t on drugs, even after all these years, John couldn’t completely trust him and although it hurt Sherlock, he had no choice but to accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John took a seat in front of him after his hello and it surprised Sherlock that the first thing he asked him wasn’t about what he had been doing all day as he usually did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you spoken to Greg? Lestrade, I mean,” he asked casually, running a hand through his hair. Sherlock could notice he looked much tired than normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock found himself clearing his throat only after doing it without noting it, but decided to ignore that if John possibly didn’t notice it anyways. “No,” he replied shortly, but not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice, only faking disinterest. He gave him a glance over his work and saw that John was frowning at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John raised his hands to the table but avoided touching anything related to Sherlock’s experiment. “He phoned me this evening,” he said and Sherlock tried again not to look concerned or surprised. “It was an emergency, he didn’t have anyone, so…” He shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Sherlock quickly raised his head and stared at John waiting for more information to come, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s okay now—no that I think you care, but he was really sick. I was just leaving for lunch when he called, so I made a quick visit.” Sherlock tilted his head in expectation, although be remained silent as John spoke again, “It only took me a look to know that he had gotten intoxicated by some food he had eaten, probably at work. He was really weak, lucky for him I could take a moment.” John kept telling him, resting his chin over his hand. “He was sick all day. Anyway, he asked for you at one point, that’s why I’m asking you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock didn’t reply immediately. His body paralyzed as he was trying to figure out what was going on. He blinked at John a few times before opening his mouth, “I forgot something,” he said, blinking a bit more when he dropped one tool on the table and took a step away. “I…” He gave him a last look and then turned to go back to his room without a word, not knowing what excuse to give, but sure that John wouldn’t believe him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to change his dressing gown for a suit jacket and muttered to John that he had forgotten something outside. John tried asking where he was going while Sherlock was putting on his coat, but decided to ignore him, leaving him there in the kitchen speechless after he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock didn’t have any trouble getting into Lestrade’s house. He thought he should actually feel real concern now about how easy it was to enter there but guessed that it was a problem for the future when he passed through the house directly to the main bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dark and quiet, except for the recognisable soft breathing coming from the middle of the bed. Sherlock’s heart dropped but felt so stupid about it rapidly so he tried to ignore the feeling, deciding that the best for Lestrade was to sleep as long as he could, remembering how sick John told him he was that evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed the door quietly and walked back to the corridor in silence. Sherlock didn’t even hesitate to help the sick man a bit by doing some cleaning in the house, although it took him by surprise a moment later when he realized that he actually felt like helping someone else without expecting something in return. He tried not to think about that right away, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed the two empty glasses of wine they had used the night before when he took a dirty cup to the sink. He had to admit right now at least to himself that they had drunk a bit more than they should have. Sherlock turned on his heels, staring back to the living room for a moment, the sofa where they shared that first kiss last night. He wondered if he would ever be able to forget the memory inside his head, the moment everything between them changed every time he would look at that sofa, but nothing else would occupy his mind related to that sofa ever again, he reckoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and grumbled, going back to the sink to wash the remaining dirty dishes around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was good luck that Lestrade had John when Sherlock didn’t answer his calls. John had made sure to provide him with more water and some light food for him to eat later, so Sherlock felt like he should thank him in return one day, not sure how he would explain the reason behind that, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to check on Lestrade later after he was finished with the cleaning and then some inspection through his bookshelves that he was sure he would need to take some notes later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade was just getting up on his bed, leaning to one side to turn the lamp on, he opened his eyes wide when he spotted Sherlock under the door threshold staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Lestrade said quietly while trying to adjust his eyes to the light. He brushed his knuckles over his eyelids as he slipped onto the bed again, turning on one side, still looking at Sherlock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” Sherlock asked, not moving yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.” He yawned once before laying down his head back to the pillow but blinking at Sherlock a few more times. “I’m a bit thirsty, though. John--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Sherlock nodded at him and turned back to the kitchen to get the bottle of water out of the fridge, pouring one glass for Lestrade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said when he received it, not putting so much effort on getting up this time and just drinking it carefully like that. Sherlock noticed how pale and sick he looked, and that Doctor Watson was right. Although it made Sherlock feel guilty. Surely he wouldn’t have helped as much as John did, but Lestrade phoned him first and he decided to ignore him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Sherlock asked once he took the empty glass out of Lestrade’s hand and placed it on the night table. He took a seat at the edge of the mattress, putting some space between them, just teasing the waters at first, although it didn’t seem as if Lestrade was upset with him, all the contrary in fact, and Sherlock felt guilty again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weak,” Lestrade replied softly but tried to smile in return. “At least the nauseous stopped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock nodded in response and before Lestrade would say anything else, Sherlock apologized for not answering the phone before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I thought you were busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade was frowning at him, “Then why--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was ignoring you,” Sherlock admitted and his stomach dropped when he saw how wounded Lestrade looked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I do something wrong? I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” But Sherlock shook his head then, “No. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked disturbed and Sherlock just knew he didn’t want to upset him at that time, so he needed to be true with him for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”I do not do this, Lestrade,” he said gesturing between them with a finger. “But… I’ve left my shields down a few times in the past. With… men. Other men.” He swallowed hard, unable to keep the gaze on Lestrade’s eyes any longer, he looked down at the mattress as he recovered his voice, “It would start as it did last night, after a couple of glasses of wine and the next day they would attack me, telling me they were all heterosexuals and would have never done something like that if they were sober. Then they would accuse me of intoxicating them,” he rambled fast, feeling his heart pounding harder inside his chest. Sherlock never opened up like that to anyone, not even to John and felt quite scared right now. “That didn’t happen only once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Lestrade muttered. “Fuck, I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you texted--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought it was happening again,” Lestrade interrupted. Sherlock offered him a quick nod, but felt the mattress shift in front of him, Lestrade was getting up a bit to get closer to him. “I’m sorry, Sherlock. I’m sorry those men were shitty to you, but… I like you. Really like you, I even feel like an idiot accepting it but I do.” He huffed nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock looked up at him frowning. He had just confessed to Lestrade something really personal, something from his past when he was younger. Something that caused him to close to any idea of getting into a relationship with another person ever again. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed due to his personality and interests in life, but things changed some time ago when he realized there were feelings for the Detective inside of him. The actual hard part was not being able to accept that there was someone who liked him in return. And Sherlock, as observant as he was, had concluded that Lestrade was, in fact, more interested in him than he was and it felt odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling the truth,” he said, still frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am, Sherlock.” Lestrade grabbed his hand between his and spoke again, “I’m sorry for my text.” He huffed embarrassed, “You were here last night and we were drinking, I don’t know, but you do usually make strange experiments on us, you can’t blame me for… having thought about that, right?.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him but then smiled, what Lestrade had said was a valid point after all, and maybe those episodes of his past just made a trick on him and made him overreact. He apologized again for not answering the phone but Lestrade said he understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go back to sleep, you’re still too weak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” he hummed in reply, his sleepy eyes betraying him. “Anyway,” Lestrade said when his head touched the pillow again after letting his hand go, “I wouldn’t have had a chance trying to pass as a heterosexual, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock tilted his head to one side, “Sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m out as bisexual. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scowl on Sherlock’s frown deepened as he looked at the other man relaxing facial expression close his eyes. He was the one feeling surprised now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you stay with me for a bit?” Lestrade asked without opening his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock let out a sound of approval and laid down beside him waiting for him to go back to sleep, wondering for a moment if it was allowed for him to fall asleep as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then wondering what was going to happen between them too after this, were they together then? Was this going to be official? Would Sherlock have to announce it to everyone? Would--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Lestrade suddenly said, “You’re thinking too loud. We can talk tomorrow,” he mumbled followed by another yawn before he passed an arm around Sherlock’s body.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>